Eden: Season Two
by Panda musume
Summary: "One way or another, we're all gonna die. And the only thing that keeps us from trying not to die is the dead. The dead that should've never came to life in the first place." Eden and the group have moved on to Fort Benning. But with unexpected events, they end up on a farm, where new problems arise and the thought of having a new home slowly slips. carlxoc rated T. Dropped.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Season 2 is up!

(Reviews from previous season)

**Amaya Albarn, **season two is going to be hectic xD, **mugglebornPROUD, **Thank you so much! ^^, **Iahnirose, **thx xD, of course. I'll be doing all of the seasons ^^, **Time of Change, **thx xD, **Guest, **Ahahaha thank youuu~ ^o^, **KelseyBl, **xD thanks xD

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE WALKING DEAD

Enjoy~

* * *

Eden: Season Two

Ch. 1: Moments

.

.

.

The time when I even bothered to remember names was when the dead started taking over. And the ones that I remember are only a few, but they'll stay with me until I go.

But in the end, nothing else matters once you're dead. But what is dying? Do you just go to heaven? Or do you walk around eating people until someone stabs you with a knife or puts a bullet through your head.

Guess I won't know 'til I'm gone like the rest.

Amy, Jim, Jaqui.

Lorel.

_Why did you have to die?_

_Are you in heaven now?_

_Is God really this cruel?_

But I won't get an answer. I know I won't. Because you're all gone now, and what can I do about it? I'm just Eden. I'm not even Eden Williams anymore. Just _Eden_. A scared, ten-year-old girl who just wants to see something—_something_ that's worth seeing in this world.

Something _beautiful._

And I want to survive.

We're going to Fort Benning. The CDC is gone—and so is another one of our own.

And another one that tried his best—and opted out.

Committed _suicide._

Dr. Edwin Jenner. Another person that I can't forget.

But we keep moving. We're_ survivors_. We _survive_. That's what we do from now on. Survive. Scavenge until there's nothing left, watching as others die while we run and run and run—

We're all a bunch of time bombs. Just ticking away until we break or stop.

And sooner or later, when there's nothing left that's pretty to see, we're gonna explode.

BOOM.

* * *

We keep going, but we leave behind T-Dog's church van in order to get some fuel.

Leaving stuff behind. . .it always comes down to that.

Like the books, and the bags, and the people in the CDC.

But now that so many people have died and left us, our group got smaller. There's only Rick, Lori, Carl, Daryl, Glenn, Sophia, Carol, T-Dog, Dale, Andrea, Jaqu—

_No._

I don't think anymore. I focus my attention to the front, where I look up at the sky and try to remember when the world was still nor—

Nope. Not gonna happen.

So I just sit and listen to Lori talk about the trip they took to the Grand Canyon as I'm smashed in between Sophia and Carl. They're talking about how Carl got sick and they had to take him to a hospital; how they went back home after that.

"Can we go see it? The Grand Canyon. I'd like to." Carl looks at his parents, wide-eyed and excited.

"I would too." Sophia pitches in. "Can we go?"

"_Eden, why don't you like Disney?"_

"_. . .I don't like taking pictures with the Princesses, Cal."_

"_Then let's take a picture with Lorel!"_

_Yeah, that would be nice._

And that was the last time I saw you, if you're not already—

Rick says yes. He says that they would never go without them. I lower my head and focus my attention on my dirty fingernails.

_I'd like to go t—_

"How 'bout you, Eden?" I snap my head up to the person speaking. _Rick_. Rick says that. I don't say anything for a second, because I don't know _what_ to say. And when I finally get my mouth working again, I don't say anything.

I nod.

Thank you.

* * *

The RV's down again, and we're stuck in the middle of a bunch of abandoned cars with dead bodies in them._ Dead_ bodies, not walkers. They're just dead. Gone.

We all walk up to the RV, where smoke is coming out of the front and Shane is asking 'what's the problem.'

Dale has his hands on his hips like mom did when she was angry at me. "Oh, just the small matter of being stuck in the middle of nowhere with no hope of—"

I look around. _The cars_. And I feel my lips quirk up until a small smile takes over.

Dale seems to have looked around too, and I laugh when he says: "Okay that was dumb."

It's been such a long time since I laughed.

Shane looks around. "If we can't find a radiator hose here—"

"There's a whole buncha stuff we can find." Daryl says while looking through the trunk of a yellow car that my aunt would've liked. She always had bad tastes in colors.

And my ears perk up at the mention of _stuff_. Maybe we can find some—

"Some water."

"Food."

_Yeah._

"This is a graveyard." Lori's voice makes me snap my head to the insides of the cars. This graveyard filled with dead corpses that never got the proper chance to be buried. Yes. This is a graveyard, but we got nothing to lose right now. We're scavengers. We scavenge until there's nothing left.

And then there's a moment of silence, where we all turn our heads away from _something_ and wait until it's over.

"I don't know how I feel about this." Lori mutters.

I do. I see a chance for fresh clothes and food and water.

_And dead bodies in cars that didn't deserve to die._

We're scavengers. We scavenge until nothing's left.

So we start scavenging once Shane tells us to move and look around, find whatever we can. I follow Lori and Carl like a lost duck, just a few paces behind. We pass a car. A car that smells worse than the others because it has a rotting body in there. Dead.

"Kids," Carol says in her motherly voice, "Don't look."

But I've already seen _it_. Millions and millions of times before.

But we still keep walking. Always walking, looking in trunks and car seats. I sit in a red car, randomly playing with the seat cushion until I spot an empty candy wrapper. It's bloody. And that's when I decide to hastily slide out. My feet hit the ground with a quiet thump, and I'm about to go to another car until there's a shadow behind me, and I already got used to the shadow. It's a harmless shadow. It's kind.

"Hey, Eden."

It's Carl.

I pick at my fingernails, focusing my attention on him.

"Hey." I'm quiet, and I see Sophia standing next to him, watching me with the same curious eyes as before.

"Wanna come with us?" he asks, and I still don't know what to say until Lori' gives us all the signal.

"Hey Carl," She makes a gesture with her hand. "Always in my sight."

Carol says the same thing, and I just resist the urge to fidget awkwardly until Lori looks at me.

She gives me a small smile, "You too, Eden."

And what can I do? Because she sounds so much like a mother I don't know what to do.

She sounds so much like you, Lorel.

"Ok."

* * *

We stay true to their word, 'always within their sight,' and we walk.

We scavenge.

I look inside the trunk of a car and find a small bag of mints just the size of my hand. My hand reaches out to them, grasping the plastic bag in my hand.

"_You're skipping dinner tonight. I'm going to tell your daddy about your spelling B today and make him set your mind straight for next time."_

_Next time. Meaning, 'The belt again for not winning a competition.'_

_Well, I can't be Cal._

_I can't be a boy._

I whip my head around to see Carl and Sophia at another car, trying to find something worth finding. I silently walk up to them, shaking the bag of mints. It makes a small clattering sound—like the sounds marbles make when you hit them against each other.

A mint is already in my mouth when I awkwardly hold the small, opened bag up as Carl and Sophia turn their heads in my direction. "Here." I say. A bit too quietly, but they heard it. They look at me for just a tiny second before digging their hands into the bag and placing a handful of mints inside of their mouths. And then it's quiet. It's a quiet moment where we don't think. We just glance at each other and we don't say anything—just glancing. And then Carl smiles, his eyes shine, and it's warm all of a sudden. Like when you drink hot chocolate. Sophia does the same, showing her teeth while clutching at the doll in her hand.

And then there's me, who moves my lips up and smiles with the two of them as bag of mints sit in my hand, and I like this.

This is a good moment—

"Lori, under the cars, now!"

There's Rick, and I don't understand the full meaning of his words until I look in his direction. I almost want to cry in between all of the blaring sirens in my head and Rick's commanding voice.

The walkers, they _always_ have to ruin everything.

And they _will_ ruin everything unless we get under the cars. So we move. Sophia finds her own and squeezes her body under it. I can hear Carol whimper.

"_Carl, Eden! Get under the cars, now!" _Rick shouts, and my eyes quickly scan the area before pulling Carl down with me to a car not far from Rick. We get down on our knees, and I feel the small pebbles dig into my jeans as we quickly slide onto our stomachs until we're both under the car. I feel Carl clutching my wrist, and I give him a reassuring glance. He looks at me and nods. But I don't feel reassured at all. In fact, what's so reassuring? I just wanna climb into my aunt's bed and curl up in a ball with the picture that's still in my pocket—but I can't. We're all under cars. Hiding from the geeks that are coming. And what can I do? The only reassurance I have is a boy right next to me who is just as scared as I am.

And that's when I can hear the disgusting growls of the_ things_ that should've never came back to life.

_I hate walkers._

The bag of mints are left, forgotten on the ground.

* * *

A/N: ch 1 is done! Feels like I rushed it a bit though. . . .xD

Til next time~


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Ch 2 is up!

**DustyClouds, **ahaha thx Dusty xD, **xRainyDaysxx, **Omg you reviewed again! :D Anyways, thank you! I'm really looking forward to developing Eden even more xD, **Wendy, **ahaha thank youuuu xD, **Guest, **XD thank you!

And I know this is pretty late, but if you want to look up some reference pics of who I base Eden's appearance on, then look up "Mika Abdalla" on google images. If you scroll a bit, you should be able to find her in a grey sweater/shirt.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE WALKING DEAD

Enjoy~

* * *

Eden: Season Two

Ch. 2: Just Got out and Wandered Off

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.

.

They come in little clumps—little groups that weave and bump through the cars. And then, like some door is opened for them, _they_ pool in. Louder, louder, and louder. Their growling—it keeps growing and growing and I can't help but feel for the picture in my pocket.

"_You wanna learn with me? Well, I can't really give you an extra sword, but I'll let you use a knife—__**with**__ the covering. But it's our secret, Eden. Your mom and dad are going to murder me if they find out that you're learning how to handle a sword. It's better that you don't get into anymore trouble than you're already in, got that? You're smart, so I guess I probably don't need to tell you that but—"_

Yeah, you _don't_. Because I remember what you taught me—the time we spent together. I _remember._

I remember it all.

But I can't remember the time I was so scared, like now—well, the CDC comes close to that. But _this _is different. The CDC didn't have a herd of walkers coming our way. The CDC actually had walls.

The CDC is _safe._

_Was._

But nothing's protecting us from them other than the comfort of our scattered people and a lousy, broken car.

_Did they usually growl like this? Were they always so scary? _

But I don't show it. Whatever I have left of me from the CDC pulls me back together and lets Carl clutch my wrist for comfort. I turn my head to the side. They're still walking, and I quickly whip my head over and throw a glance at Rick. He sees me and throws his hand up, telling us to stay under the cars.

_Wait._

We do. We do as we're told and we wait for the silence and the stench to pass.

But I _can't_. I can't be patient right now with the situation we're in—because there's nothing beautiful about this. There's nothing beautiful about hiding under cars, or smelling the stench of the geeks, or spending every moment of our days just scavenging and scavenging and _scavenging_.

Because one day we're all gonna explode. . .

BOO—

And I close my eyes and I shut out the noise. I shut out the numbing pain on my left wrist that Carl's still grasping, I shut out the shuffling of the dead and the brief flashes of their rotting, ugly teeth. And I'm sick of _this_. Because no matter how many times I try to push it to the back of my mind, I keep thinking about it. I keep thinking about the bad things—about how happy I could've been. About how easy it would've been if I'd just died at the CDC—

But wait, _no_. I made a _promise_. I can't break it. Can't break it, can't break it—

But is thinking like that really that bad?

_No, Eden_. You can't think like that. You can't think like that—you're a _survivor. _You do what you gotta do until you're done—

And that's what I'm still _trying_ to do—but there's nothing to see right now. There's nothing beautiful to see like the sky from when we left the CDC—

_Oh, that's right._ It was beautiful. . .I thought it was _beautiful._

It was _beautiful._

It was beautiful because I survived and got to see it again.

I got to see it.

Because I survived. . .

I _survived._

Carl's grip on my wrist loosens as we wait for the signal to come out. Rick holds up a hand. We still have to wait.

And right now, I'm okay with that.

So I turn my head and ignore how unusually calm I am. In between Carol's whimpers, Sophia's trembling, and Carl still holding my wrist, I watch out and slide my hand to feel for the knife in my boot—even though that doesn't help me anymore.

The herd of walkers—they slowly go by, and I watch. We all watch with this unraveling relief that just makes me even more wary. Because there might be more of_ them_. Because there is _always_ that chance. There is always that slim chance where you can get out and wander away.

Like how Cal did.

_But that was an accident._

Like how _I_ did when I tried to find him. And what did _I_ get—?

Sometimes, my parents are too quick with their hands before I can even think.

But my parents weren't always like this. Come to think of it, I used to be liked by them until Cal walked into the house. He walked into the house like nothing and started being their favorite "kid."

_Cal_ got a perfect score on his test.

_Cal_ was the ace of the soccer team.

_Cal _was the "good guy" that everyone liked—

_Cal, Cal, Cal, Cal, Cal, Cal—_

_Cal _was the kid that my parents always wanted.

And _I _was the kid that got the short end of the stick.

"_Why couldn't you be more like Cal?"_

"_Why did I have to give birth to you!"_

"_Why didn't I give birth to a boy!?"_

I'm sor—

No. I'm _not_. I'm a _girl._ Parents don't say _that_ either. My friend's parents never said that to them, and I'm still jealous of that.

Parents were supposed to make snacks with you, pack your lunch; be there for you when you're in a slump. But I guess you guys can't do that anymore. You never gave me that chance. And now, you're dead.

And dead people should stay _dead._

"_Eden, wanna play poker?"_

"_I don't know how to play. . ."_

"_Sure you can, it's easy. Just leave everything to your big brother."_

So _where_ were you all this time? _Where_ were you when Lorel died? _Where_ were you when all of this happened?

_Why didn't you come back home?_

And _that_ won't ever be answered, because it doesn't matter anymore. _It doesn't matter. _Because when this world went to hell, everything normal went with it. My questions are useless.

And me?

I'm just Eden.

And just when Rick holds up his hand again, I see Sophia sliding out of her car, and the gears in my mind start rolling and I can't help but whisper: "Sophia!"

But that's already too late. A walker—_two walkers_ are on her trail, and by the time I know it, I'm yanking Carl's hand from my wrist and I run after her. I ignore the lump in my throat and I run after her—the girl with the doll that I called _childish._

I run after her because I'm_ scared_._ I'm_ as scared as hell.

_Me._

"_. . .Eden—"_

Because she just _got out and wandered off_. Wandered off into the woods with nothing but that _doll._

And I ignore Rick's yell as I follow her because she,_ Sophia_. The kind, quiet Sophia that I know—the girl who shared her beans with me, the girl who saw me cry, the girl who ate mints with me and Carl—just _got lost and wandered out._

And I don't wanna experience that feeling ever again.

* * *

A/N: I haven't updated in like. . .two weeks. . . .I feel terrible. Forgive me! TTATT

I hope you guys could understand that Eden followed her because of a past experience with Cal (I feel like I was a bit vague on that xD).

So, a little insight on Cal &amp; whatnot, and Eden's gradual change.

Although, I feel kinda unrealistic with the chapter I just wrote. . .do you guys think so too?

Til next time~


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Ch 3 is up!

**DustyClouds, **thank you for bearing with my lateness xD. Your words have wise meanings xD. Stay fabulous ^.^ **Wendy, **thank you! I'm very sorry for the late update again, but I will be able to update more often now that gifts have been finished xD. Now, about the Sophia thing, she's going to die. Her death is going to be used as a part of Eden's development. I don't really like changing up the storyline in general anyway. . . .god I feel so mean to Sophia (RIP you sweet little girl ). **HappyGoLuckyGirl, **thanks xD. **Amaya Albarn, **thank you~. **Timeofchange, **here's your chapter xD. **Savannah's Angels, **thank you!

Once again, I apologize deeply for the late update. It might be like this for a while, but I can assure you that I will be able to update more frequently now that the painful process of gift-wrapping is finished xD. Now then, how is everyone's Christmas? Consider this chapter a late gift from me to all of you lovelies who take time from your life to read my story ^.^

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE WALKING DEAD

Enjoy~

* * *

Eden: Season Two

Ch. 3: Little girl with a Doll

.

.

.

.

I'm running. I'm running so fast my lungs hurt and it's hard to breathe, but that just makes me run even more.

"_Eden!"_

I hear my name catch up to me, but I just shut it out and ignore the stinging pain in my eyes—wait, why am I _crying?_ I don't cry anymore, so that can't be it. Am I scared? _No_, there's no time to be scared anymore when they're walking the Earth. So _why_? _Why_ am crying again? Why am I chasing a girl with a doll?

Why did she have to get lost?

"_It would've been better if you'd got lost instead of Cal."_

_Shut up—_

I'm pretty sure my knees are numb by now, but I don't care. I keep running.

–_Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. _

Cal, help me.

"—_den! Eden!"_

I feel a hand grab at my hand, and it's not a good feeling. Why don't I feel reassured? Oh yeah, Sophia's being chased by two walkers and I'm being pulled into the arms of this police officer who's supposed to be going after Sophia instead of me.

_Because nobody cares for orphans._

"_Hey_. _Hey_—_look at me."_

I thrash in the unfamiliar warmness for god knows how long, and then I shrivel up. I deflate. I slump into this person's arms and press back the stinging feeling in my eyes.

"Sophia," My voice is hoarse, and it's painful to talk—but I do. "She's still out there." _She's lost._ "W-We gotta find her—"

"I know." Rick says, and I stare into the eyes that are the same blue as Carl's. "I know."

I can smell the sweat and dirt rolling off of him, kinda like how Lorel used to smell—

I nod, breathless, and Rick pushes me from him at arm's length and stands. "But first, you gotta get out of here. Alright? Do you know the way?"

But I don't want to get out of here. I want to find Sophia.

"_Sit in the corner and don't talk. You'll just be in our way."_

I look around. There's the trees. The grass. The leaves. The sounds. The _sun._

"_Always keep the sun on your left shoulder."_

I nod.

Rick nods back at me and pushes me in the direction where we came from. The highway where Sophia ran from and when I yanked Carl's hand from mine. I look back to see the familiar blue in Rick's eyes, and he nods again, this time waving his hand and then running in the direction of the girl with the doll.

"_Go!"_

I run.

* * *

Before this world went to hell, mom used to drive me to Lorel's house almost all the time—probably to get me out of the house to sleep with someone other than dad, but that wasn't my business. Lorel's house was _different._ Her house smelled like coffee and sweat—the good kinds of smells. I liked it. But what I liked the most was her teaching me how to hunt. When she just dragged me out to the woods out of nowhere and told me to watch her catch a squirrel. It was comfortable. _I_ felt comfortable.

_Felt._

And I feel so much more different now because my legs are aching by the time I come back to the car infested area and I can barely breathe because _Sophia_ is still out there. She's_ still_ out there. I can barely breathe. The dead came back to life. We need to keep scavenging. We can't end up like Amy or Jaqui or Jim and we can't ever stop. It's so much now. There's just so many problems we all have and I try to press back what wants to come out so hard I don't say anything when Lori grabs my arm and yells at me for running off.

"You always stay in my sight from now on, got it?" A fierce voice—kinda like yours, Lorel.

I can only manage a nod while she pulls me into a hug. I can see Carol from here, leaning next to a blue Ferrari, and I know she's disappointed. She's giving me one of those looks that says that she doesn't want to see me. She wants to see Sophia. . .kinda like how dad used to look at me. He wanted to see Cal.

When Lori lets go of me, that's when everyone comes over and I have to retell the story—that Rick is on his way to saving Sophia. That he's tracking her down while I was running back over here.

And now we don't do anything but wait and sit on dirty cars.

I don't know where the bag of mints are anymore.

I don't even remember how it tasted.

Rick is back. He's back and I feel the corners of my mouth move until I see someone missing.

The girl with a doll is lost.

He didn't bring her back.

I slide off of the car I was sitting on—the car that Carl and I were laying under—and I walk up to Rick with the rest of the group. He looks surprised. Why?

"She's not back yet?"

Wait. What? What do you mean?

Carol crumples to the floor and cries. It's a full-blown waterworks show, and we all don't say anything as Lori rushes over and rubs her back.

I don't say anything because—where is Sophia?

And Rick explains. He explains how he found her and then left her to take on the other two walkers.

He lost her.

Carl grasps my wrist and that's when I realize that he's next to me. And I look at his face to see—to make sure that this is for _real._

Carl stares into my eyes, and we share this small moment where there's barely any contact between us other than his warm hand and the fact that I wasn't able to press back some of the feelings I've bottled up.

This is real.

* * *

Rick, Daryl, Shane, and Glenn are gone now. Went to look for Sophia.

But that doesn't really do us any good because Shane and Glenn come back just around an hour later. Shane does the talking. He tells us not to panic and that Sophia's going to be just fine.

And somehow, I can't bring myself to believe him.

So that leaves me standing next to Dale as he fixes the RV while Shane and Andrea are moving cars out of the way. In the corner of my eye, I see Carol standing beside the guardrail, still waiting for the little girl with a doll to come back.

Dale's working with one of those complicated-looking wires now. I shift my feet from one to the other before looking into the same place that Dale was looking in before.

"Better not get your head in too deep." Dale glances over at me and raises his eyebrows.

I slowly pull my head back. "Can you fix it?"

"Fix it?" Dale looks at me for a moment and smiles. "It used to be a lot worse before."

My head moves up to him as I wiggle my toes. "How so?"

"Used to break down all the time whenever my wife and I went out of state—"

"Why aren't we out there looking? Why're we movin' cars?"

I turn my head to the voice that's speaking—Carol. She has her arms around herself and takes a glance at me before looking at Dale. Something inside of me tightens as I stare at the mother of the lost girl with a doll, and I feel like crying for her despite everything.

"Well, we have to clear enough room so I can get the RV turned around as soon as it's running." Dale moves his arms around, making hand gestures. "Now that we have fuel, we can double-back to a bypass that Glenn marked on the map."

Shane then walks over to us, shotgun in hand. I look around and I see everyone moving, carrying crates and still scavenging until there's nothing left.

I look away and listen to Shane mumbling something about, 'Goin' back's gonna be easier than trying to get through this mess.'

And I'm about to ask him if he's given up on Sophia too until Carol tells all of us that we're not leaving without the lost girl with the doll. Her voice is wavering and I think she's about to cry, but she bottles them up. She bottles them up just like me and waits for something to happen. Lori walks over to comfort her.

"Hey," She touches Carol's back, whispering in a motherly voice: "That goes without saying."

"Rick and Daryl. They're on it—okay? Just a matter of time." Shane says, and he's using an extra gentle voice when talking to her.

I turn my gaze away from all of this and instead choose to make eye-contact with Carl, who's probably the only one that I can call a friend right now.

Because the knot in my stomach keeps tightening whenever I think about the little girl with a doll that got lost in the woods.

* * *

Shane tells us to keep going—keep working so that we don't think about Sophia.

I'm still working my brain around on how Dale fixes the RV until I feel the shadow behind me again. It's a good shadow; good person. My friend.

"Hey." He says, and there's something familiar in his eyes that I used to recognize, "I wanna show you something."

I turn my head to Dale as he gives me a pat on the back and ushers me towards Carl.

We walk—more like Carl leading me to a rusted, blue truck.

"Look." He says, pointing to the window. I squint my eyes and peer inside on my tiptoes only to see another dead body. Dead. Not alive. Not moving around. _Dead._

I bounce back onto my heels and spin around to face Carl. "What do you wanna show me?"

And before I can walk away he grins. "Under the arm," He points a finger at the window again. "You see it?"

I go up on my tiptoes again and squint my eyes. True to his word, tucked under the rotting corpse's arm is an axe—or maybe a hatchet.

And before I can say anything, I see Carl right next to me, about to open the door. "What are you doing?" I hiss.

He raises his eyebrows. "We need it."

_We already have weapons_, is on the very tip of my tongue. But I don't say it because it's Carl. He's doing something that I've been attempting to do with my parents before I gave up. He's trying to be useful.

"Suit yourself." I mutter, standing back until I'm several inches apart from him. I watch as he opens the door with a slight tug, the arm of the corpse falling out, looking as if it's trying to grab Carl. I bring my hand back to my side just in time before Carl could see that I was going to pull him away from it.

I stay mute as Carl glances at the corpse and then me, uncertainty in his eyes.

"What?" I cross my arms and watch as he stares at me.

"Aren't you doing this with me?"

"No."

"Why?" Carl asks me, and there's a slight hint of accusation that shouldn't be there. "You scared?"

My arms stay crossed as we stare at each other. Blue on blue. Honestly, what did he think I was? Scared? After having a walker on top of me at the quarry, I can handle myself just fine. "You made the call." I raise my eyebrows again, gesturing to the hatchet tucked under the arm of the dead body.

Carl turns back around to face the body, closing whatever distance there was as he pulls at the wrapped weapon. I think I hear him groan as he places his hand on the wheel for support and tugs at the item. It doesn't budge one bit.

He backs away several steps and I uncross my arms.

"I can't get it out." He says before lifting himself into the car again and making another attempt at getting it out. I walk over to where Carl is and bring myself up next to him as I wrap my hands around the bundle.

He looks at me. "What're you—"

"I'm helping."

And there's nothing but this awkward silence as we stare at each other again.

I raise my eyebrows, breaking whatever just happened and bringing back the reality of the dead body that's in front of us. "Are we going to pull it out?"

He nods for a moment, and I take a breath before saying: "One—Two—Three!"

And before either of us know it, we're both on the ground with the black bundle on Carl's lap. For a second, I'm confused until he grins and looks at me with wide eyes.

"It's an _arsenal_."

* * *

We show the arsenal to Shane, and he tells them to give them to Dale, which we do, but I'm still confused as to why Shane gave us a somewhat cold shoulder. He and Carl got along so well before—

And we go back to scavenging. We go back to what we're good at doing—stealing cans of food from dead people that don't have graves.

I help Lori with organizing the food as everyone else adds to the pile of cans and bottles. And despite how busy I am, from doing _chores_ to changing into fresh clothes, time doesn't stop. It rolls around up to the point where the sun is setting and there's still no Sophia.

And it's still going. Nature never waits for us to catch up. Nature watches. It watches while we struggle and crawl until we go BOOM.

Until time stops ticking for us, and we won't even care about the days going by.

And by the time I'm organizing a water bottle into a row, I see them—Rick and Daryl.

"They're back." I hear someone say, and I stop what I'm doing and I run over to them with the rest of our people, only to see the one person that we've been looking for missing.

She's not here. She's not here with us._ God_, they didn't find her? _How_ can they not find her? Daryl's supposed to be a hunter like Lorel and—

"But she's twelve!" I hear Carol cry out in between all of her shaking and the fact that Carl has his mouth wide open. . .I guess he never considered what I was thinking about this whole time.

The girl with the doll is still lost.

And I don't feel any of this. I don't feel any of this right now; the fact that they're going to pick up the trail tomorrow, the fact that they gutted a walker and the _blood, blood, blood_. Oh my god, what if that was _Sophia_—no, it wasn't. She's going to be oka—_no_, I don't know anymore. I don't know what to think anymore—

And I hear Carol's accusation. That Rick left her daughter. That Rick had to draw the walkers off. This is _Sophia_. The girl who carries a doll around and probably still believes in Santa Clause. . .And even with him drawing off the walkers, how would she be able to run back here on her own? She isn't like me. It should've been _me._

Because nobody would care if I got lost.

"My little girl got left in the woods." I hear Carol whisper, and I can tell that everything inside her tiny little bottle is spilling and bubbling out. And that's just gives me all the more reason to think that I should've been the one to get lost.

The little girl with the doll shouldn't have been the one to go through _this._

It should've been _me._

* * *

A/N: So ch 3 is done!

Til next time~


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Ch 4 is up!

Changed my review format xD

**TheAmazingMaya, **thank you! I'm glad that you like Eden since I was worried if she might be a little bit of the Mary-sue type xD.

**BlondeKatniss, **Your welcome ^^

**Wendy, **Thank you!

**DustyClouds, **Thanks Dusty xD. Eden is slowly going to the dark side. . .dun dun dunnnnn. . .xD

Note: Happy New Year guys! I hope you all have a wonderful day and a fantastic 2015! Consider this (very short) chapter (plz forgive me /shotshotshot/) as a (very late) New Year's gift xD

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE WALKING DEAD

Enjoy~

* * *

Eden: Season Two

Ch. 4: Insignificant

.

.

.

The next morning we all spring up and get ready to go look for the lost girl with the doll. Rick tells everyone to take a weapon from the arsenal me and Carl found, and slowly, I bring my hand to my boot where my aunt's knife is until I remember that it's in my backpack.

_Oh._

I still have the knife my aunt gave me—but whenever I touch it, I don't feel safe anymore. I don't. And one of us is already gone. . ._Sophia_. We're looking for a lost girl who could already be—

A Japanese sword.

"_It's a katana, baby girl."_

"_Ka-ta. . .na?"_

"_That's right. Maybe someday, you'll get your own once you leave the house."_

"_Cal too?"_

"_. . .That's right. Cal too."_

My aunt's sword would've been a better weapon than my knife. . .even though her house got overrun with all the growling and the rotting teeth and—the swords that were left there. The swords that would've been much better than my knife.

That small, insignificant knife that I couldn't even use to take down a walker.

Couldn't even keep me safe.

* * *

"I'm going with you." That's what Carl says to his dad, and I stand next to him, still as a stone. Imagining what my dad'll do if I said that to hi—

_No. Eden. Gotta focus. He's dead._

And Carl—because he's Carl he tells Rick that he wants to go with them—find Sophia faster. And before I know it, my tiny, insignificant voice pipes in too.

"I want to go too. . ." It's small, slow, and I feel the three pairs of eyes on me—except Carl, who stands by my decision and my little voice. That tiny voice that I always use in the back of the classroom is now asking for something. "Sophia was—_is_ my friend too." _Was._

And after that I stay silent and reassemble. I break myself apart and piece myself together so I can be ready for their answer, because my thoughts never get across. They never do because I am just the insignificant little voice in the back of the classroom. Just there. No importance. No presence. _Nothing_. Just a wallflower that everyone forgot about. A wallflower that's only there to make the classroom look pretty, and wallflowers with insignificant little voices never get across through Lori's headshake and the words that I don't understand from Dale. Not even the words Rick says—

". . .Okay. _Okay_, But always within our sights, no exceptions."

And my head shoots up once I hear that small, beautiful word slip out from his mouth. That moment. That small moment where I don't care that I'm smiling along with Carl and the fact that I let out a little laugh when Dale winks at us after.

It got across.

The insignificant little voice got across.

And after a moment, Lori curves the corners of her mouth up into a mother's smile. "You too, Eden."

After a while, my smile slowly goes away when I understand the full meaning of her words.

"Ok." And I watch as Lori walks away and I'm all alone with Dale, the feeling in my chest gone like the lost girl with a doll.

Because while I'm still smiling, the little girl with a doll is still out there, and Carl and I are the only kids that're still here—

We don't need another lost kid.

And all of a sudden, Andrea's here.

Andrea. The one who told everyone at the CDC my secret.

I almost stare at her until Dale throws his hands up and speaks with an uneasy voice. "Andrea, don't put me in this position." He glances down at me, and Andrea follows his gaze—which lands right on top of me.

And that's the cue for me to go. To go and leave them there arguing about guns and suicides like it's something normal to talk about. But that doesn't happen. I don't leave. I don't do anything but take a few steps back and lean on a car nearby that Cal would stick his tongue out at, and I don't use my insignificant little voice this time. Because it probably won't get across anyway. . ._Huh?_ What am I thinking? What's even the point of doing that? Because _that_—what those two have over there isn't even my problem. It's not a part of my problem—because I'm just _Eden_. Small, tiny, insignificant Eden. I'm just a ten year old girl who lost her aunt and practically everything else but her knife and her insignificant little voice and mind. And little girls like me don't need to get into grown-up arguments filled with guns and suicides. _No._ Little girls like me have insignificant voices.

Little girls like me can do nothing but watch until something else comes along.

* * *

The grass is brushing against my feet as I walk behind Daryl. Carl said he wanted to stay behind with his mom and Shane, so I chose to walk behind the hunter. Daryl. The one who pulled a walker off of me.

I keep quiet, checking for footprints—but not the large ones, those are Daryl's—_tracks_. Lorel used to teach me how to hunt—except she did it with her sword—_katana_, and tracking.

"_Don't touch those leaves. They're poisonous."_

"_Y'see these? A fawn's passed by here. If we follow its tracks—you see that on the ground? That's it—we'll be able to stew ourselves dinner tonight. You like that?"_

"_Keep quiet and don't make a sound. Use your knife in one go. No questions. And cover up your tracks."_

Got it.

And we keep walking for hours, brushing away leaves and pushing past shrubs, and I have to jog in order to keep up with Daryl. He's a fast walker.

Not _walker_. . .not like those _things._

I'm still cautious throughout it all, looking in every direction for a little girl or a doll. . .and I don't know what keeps me going until I see it.

A yellow tent.

A yellow tent that Sophia could be hiding in.

Daryl raises his hand, and before I know it, Rick is in front of me and everyone crouches down except Shane, who's the first one to break the silence. "She could be in there. . ."

"Could be a whole 'buncha things in there." Daryl. He crouches low and doesn't make a sound. He's really quiet, like when you take down an animal, Lorel. And he's right, there could be a whole bunch things in there. . .and the worst possible thing that we could see is Sophia dea—

_Stop._

And by the time I know it, I feel Daryl, Rick, and Shane pass by me, and from Rick's hand—I guess he's our leader now—we all stay put. We wait.

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

I squint really hard in between all the green grass and the shrubs and the trees just to try to get a glimpse. I still see the speck of yellow, never leaving my sight, and there's Daryl, slowly creeping over to the tent like a hunter, ready to strike its prey down like a _walker_—

_No_. Walkers are loud and—

And then I see Rick's hand going up again. _"Carol!"_

I feel the mother of the lost girl with a doll brush past me and scamper over to the two. Slowly, after I feel several other people pass by—probably Glenn and Andrea, but I don't look—that's my turn to come in and watch with my blue eyes. My eyes. The eyes that I got from a grandma that I didn't even know existed. And I watch. The insignificant little girl watches as the mother calls out softly, her voice raspy and tired from walking, but desperate throughout it all.

The tent doesn't move.

"_Sophia,_ we're all here, baby—It's _mommy_."

"_I won't always be around to help you with the world now gone to shit, but I'm here for you right now, sweetheart. I'll try to be here for as long as I can and teach you everything I know so that you don't have just those useless parents of yours and a knack for using my knives. So baby girl, don't let the world spoil you. Got that?"_

Yeah.

But nothing moves, and I feel something wash over me as Daryl slowly unzips the tent and walks in. Then there's waiting for a couple moments, waiting, waiting_, waiting_, and I almost want to call out to him until he comes back out with a hard face and—where's_ Sophia?_

Is she—?

"It ain't her."

Thank god. Thank god. _Thank god._ She might be still alive. She might be somewhere safe. . .

But nowhere's safe. . . .

I feel something in the air being lifted, only for a little while to be replaced with a newfound anxiety. Where is she now?

And I finally breathe when I notice my lungs holding their breath as I smell it. The smell of rotting meat and flesh, and it reminds me of the walker from the fish fry.

"What's in there?" Andrea. Isn't the answer obvious?

"Some guy," I see Daryl sliding his knife—the one that was used to take out the walker that was on top of me—back into its cover. "Did what Jenner said—_opted out_."

I feel something drop in my stomach as he slings his crossbow around his shoulder.

"Ain't that what he said?" He says it with a bundle of _something_ in his voice, and he locks it up tight.

Nobody answers.

_Opted out. Suicide._

I pick at my fingernails. . .And then I think. Because if I go down one day, I'll go down fighting. I won't opt out.

_I won't._

I'm better than that—

"_You're better than me, Eden."_

"_No I'm not, Cal." Because you're smart. Everyone likes you. Mom and dad love you. And me? I don't know how I feel. . ._

"_You are, really. You're real."_

The day before you got lost—why did you tell me that? Are you even _alive_?

Because if you we're alive then I would. . .

—better than a brother that decided to get lost.

And then we all freeze. We freeze and Carl and I exchange looks as we look in the direction of a noise. A loud noise that makes all of us turn our heads and listen. It sounds kinda like the bell at school that rings when class is over—but it's different. These bells, they're _different._ Those are—

Church bells.

And my insignificant little voice murmurs, _breathes _just a small word.

"_Sophia."_

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the late update (procrastination and writers block. . .I guess you could consider this an uneventful chapter xD)

But on the bright side, happy New Year everyone! Do any of you have any New Year's resolutions? Leave a review if you want ^^

My new year's resolution: Manifest my lazy lifestyle even more than 2014.

Til next time~


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: ch 5 is up!

**xRainyDaysxx, **Thank you so much! ^o^

**DustyClouds, **you flatter me too much xD but thanks Dusty! You keep it up with your writing too, girl xD

**FireRebel, **ahaha ^^, I'm really glad that you like my fanfic xD. I really enjoy writing about Eden xD

**Now then: **First of all, I would like to deeply apologize at the fact that I was being a complete and utter inactive otter. School and midterms suddenly took over after winter break so I'm glad that I got most of my tests over with this week. So hopefully, I hope I can update more often now xD How's school with all of you guys xD? I hope you guys don't have midterms, too much studying fries my brain and turns me into a walker xD

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE WALKING DEAD

Enjoy~

* * *

Eden: Season Two

Ch. 5: God

.

.

.

_God doesn't exist._

This is where a small moment passes by. A small moment where we stop, listen, and crane our heads in all sorts of directions.

Church bells.

_Sophia._

Our voices mesh. Turning, spinning, _changing_, and at some point, we're all sprinting. We're huffing and panting and looking in all different directions for a little girl with blonde hair, and I'm pretty sure that we all think. We're all wrapping our minds loosely around _Sophia._ The girl that was the first person to give me a can of beans at the quarry—

_Jim. Amy._

They were good people. They were good people that didn't need to die. They didn't deserve that. _Sophia_ doesn't deserve this.

_That's why the lost girl with the doll is going to be alright—_

Might be.

_Don't get your hopes up._

But those are church bells. Maybe Sophia's ringing them. Yeah, she's capable enough to do that—

"That can't be it." Shane.

_What?_

"—Got no steeple, no bells."

_What? But—_

And that only makes us all run harder, our footsteps pounding the ground and just doing whatever we need to be doing right now. And me? I don't know what I have inside of me, but I move my legs forward and I let the adrenaline carry me away. Someplace far, far away.

_Run._

I'm fast. I know that. I ran all the time. Lorel even complimented me.

_But Cal was faster—_

But that's what I'm good at. Running away. I tried to run away from home once, but before I could even cross the parking lot, Cal told me off on mom and dad. I was greeted with the belt and dad's bad breath and mom's can of beer.

Maybe dad was just too intoxicated up to the point where he forgot about his own daughter in between the beer, the company, mom's affair—

_And don't forget the belt._

_Shut up._

But I'm _fast_. Faster than the guys in my grade, faster than the older guys, but _never_ faster than Lorel. That's probably why I can only run at Daryl's pace. Just ahead of Carl and Lori, but right behind Daryl, who's using his long legs, and I see something inside of him. . .spark. I seem him glance at me from the corner of his eye, all huffing and using my short legs, but then he changes his view back to the front. And I feel like the whole world is just going way too slow, but I can't stop myself from being so selfish and allowing something warm to enter inside of me. _Running_. It's always been one of my saviors besides books. And I feel it. I feel the wind slap my face and the desperation dripping down me and the baggy clothes that Lori got me slowly disappearing. I feel _okay._

For just a little bit, I don't feel the nervous butterflies in my stomach. I don't feel like walkers are here; I don't feel guilty for not catching Sophia. But now we're at a church where Sophia'll be in—

_Might be in._

_Don't get your hopes up._

And the adrenaline leaves. The adrenaline leaves and everything unnatural falls back into place. The church, the sweat, the disappointment. . .

The _guilt._

We all slow down to a walk. Slowly, slowly, until we're just at the door and Lori grabs my arm.

"You okay?" She whispers, breathless.

I nod, trying to catch my breath.

Rick is first one on top of the steps, holding up his weapon. Then there's Daryl, and there's Shane. They all exchange invisible glances at each other and bring fingers up to their lips. I swallow.

_Please, please, please let Sophia be here—_

The doors open, and just when Carl grabs my wrist and inhales sharply, I feel something in my chest drop as the three walkers sitting in the church stand up. They turn around.

I press back what's making my chest tighten.

* * *

A lady and two men. Three more people that probably died after saying their prayers to God.

_Bullshit._

_Eden!_

I'm sorry.

_But God doesn't exist. He doesn't. I know that for a fact—_

The first one stands up, then the other two follow.

_Because if he did exist, then I wouldn't have the scars on my body, Lorel would still be alive, and Cal would be just—just—_

Lori hand Rick her weapon; a sharp one. It looks sharper than my knife. And for a brief moment, there's this unspoken agreement, and Rick is walking up to the walker.

He buries the weapon into its head.

Rest in Peace—

_No._ Those aren't human. That part already died.

"_Dark, lifeless—dead. The frontal lobe, the neocortex, the human part. That doesn't come back. The __**you **__part."_

_Because if God did exist, Sophia would already be here—not these three walkers. No, Sophia. Kind Sophia, sweet Sophia, girly Sophia would be here with her doll and ringing the church bells. She would be here and Carol wouldn't be so close to tears now today because she would've been alright._

_She was supposed to be __**here.**_

_She was supposed to be __**alright.**_

Rick keeps going, smashing the weapon into its head. I almost look away. _Almost._ And pretty soon, Shane and Daryl walk up slowly, like hunters. I see him—Shane. I see him grit his teeth and stick his weapon into the other man's—walker's eye. Daryl's not far behind, silent, very silent, walking, walking, walking, then—

_But she isn't alright. She isn't here. She's still the little lost girl waiting to be found. And out there right now she could already be—_

_Stop._

SHHK

Swiftly, Daryl slices the weapon through the woman's disorientated face and backs away. Then it's all red.

_But if God was real, Sophia would be here right now. This whole entire thing wouldn't have happened, and Carl wouldn't have that kind of face on him right now._

_Carol wouldn't crying._

_And me? I wouldn't be blaming myself for not running fast enough to catch up to her. Because I'm the same. I'm the same as the little lost girl that we still haven't found. Disorientated, confused, quiet, insignificant—_

_The only difference is that I don't have a doll._

_I don't need a doll._

And the cracking and the slicing and the groans continue. Rick and Shane—they look disorientated too. Lesser than me, but they have their problems. And Daryl, he's quiet. He's quiet and the birds aren't singing today, and his back looks just a little bit bigger and a little heavier than usual. The spark—it's small, but it's still there.

_God doesn't exist._

Then there's the silence. The type of silence that you use for funerals.

_Because if he did exist, Sophia would be here, Carol wouldn't be crying, Carl would be smiling, and I would stop wishing that we'd traded places. Because I could've done it. __**I **__could've done better, and yet—_

_Why couldn't I make it?_

_Why is it always like this?_

_Sophia? Lorel—?_

_**Cal?**_

Rick yells. He screams. He's fed up with all of this and he's desperate.

"_Sophia!"_

Shane quickly strides over to comfort him. I walk out of Lori's grasp and walk up to Daryl. Lori seems too preoccupied with calming Carl at the moment.

"She's not here." I whisper slowly, and that seemed to have snapped him out of his daze and look down at me. Blue. They're blue. I didn't know he had blue eyes. Just like you, Lorel.

"She's fine." He says in his usual gruff voice. It's kinda tiring to see him like this.

I exhale, slightly slouching and bringing my shoulder down. "It should've been me. . ." I mutter.

The pair of eyes are still on me. "What?"

I don't look up. This time I lose the staring contest, and this time, I don't care. The only one who can see us is the giant statue of Jesus hovering over us. "I. . .I should've been the one to get lost—not Sophia."

He gives me this quizzical frown for just a second, and I'm about to ask him what's so funny, but I don't. Now's not the time.

He stares down at me, "Hey—"

_DING. DING. DING._

And that's the cue for him to drop everything and run. Run past the statue, past the benches, past me.

_Sophia._

But as we all start to pool out, Lori and Carl are next to me, there's no church bells. No Sophia. Just a loudspeaker, which Glenn quickly shuts off.

Good. Sound attracts walkers.

"A timer. It's just a timer."

I press it all back.

"_Sweetheart, you gotta be tough, okay? For me."_

Yeah, I know Lorel. I know.

I keep pressing it all back as everyone disperses. Separating, but not far enough to leave each other behind. Because we're all family. Family has to stick together.

And then I feel shade blocking me. It's a good shade, until I realize that it's not a shade. It's a large body. _Daryl._

_Oh._

"Hey." He says, almost gruffly, but I feel it. The small hint of his voice that's somehow softer than usual. I crane my head up and look at him.

"Hey," I whisper.

He lowers his head to face me, then jerks his head over to an area that's just out of earshot of Andrea, who's sitting by herself near that timer. The fight with Dale pops back into my mind. _Go away_.

"C'mon, I wanna talk to ya."

I snap out of it, then lower my eyes, and I hesitantly follow him, picking at the dirt from under my fingernails. What else was I supposed to do? Run? Hide? Oh wait, I'll get caught by the walkers.

There's almost this confident, if not akward atmosphere around us as I hear the thump, thump, thump, of our shoes on the ground. I stay at least a good give inches from him, then _nothing_. Then it's quiet. We stop, he turns. I look up. "Yeah?"

He keeps staring down at me with your blue eyes, Lorel. My tiny frame tries not to shrink back from this invisible force and hide. "Why'd you say that back there?" He jerks his head over to the church. And for a moment, I forget everything I want to say. I forget and I want to crawl into a hole and stay there until I feel better and Daryl forgets.

"Forget it. . ." I mutter, and my voice is so small I don't even know if he hears it until he lets out some sort of exhale before kneeling down and settling his crossbow onto the grass.

"That ain't somethin' a kid should be sayin'." And there's this _something _inside of this voice. It's somewhat edgy, but it feels—strange. It's like when a parent softly chews you out for doing something bad, and I don't know whether or not I feel comfortable with it, but I say it anyway. Because I wanna let some of my bottle out.

Because he kinda reminds me of you, Lorel.

I exhale, nervous. "I. . .I could've survived better than Sophia—"

"_You're ten."_

"I can _hunt_," My voice is still soft, but more forceful than what I expected, "I'm smarter and I'm faster."

His eyes harden, never leaving me, and suddenly, I feel really self-conscious of myself. I brace myself for the oncoming force of_ something_, my eyes never leaving Daryl's. I can't afford to back down now.

"Hey," Daryl says more forcefully. I step back, only for him to grab my shoulder. Usually, I don't like people touching where my scars are, but I don't know anymore. His hand is so warm it makes me think about staying in this position forever, and I almost want to wriggle out of it at the same time, but I don't.

He's not mom. He's not dad.

He's _Daryl._

"Don't say stuff like that, kid. It's not worth it."

I stop picking at my fingernails. "How do you know?"

And I don't know what makes me want to pour everything inside of me out, but what he says next are important. They're so important because even _he_ has a tiny bit of hope left for the things that aren't completely wrecked and torn to pieces _yet_. And when he says it, I almost feel this stinging sensation at the very back of my eyes.

"Because Sophia's gonna be alright. Okay?" He says the last part so softly, but I can hear it—loud and clear. His large, rough hand is still on my shoulder, and I don't feel like shuddering away anymore. I feel tired. The good kind of tired. Maybe it's because of all the adrenaline, or the little lost girl with the doll, or Carl's expression right now, or Carol's crying, or me, but I don't think so. Maybe it's because the person right in front of me is so bright I can't even consider saying no. It's too _bright_. It's too bright up to the point where I want to squint my eyes and pretend like everything's okay when it's really not.

"_Okay."_

But the way he says it—it makes the stinging feeling at the back of my eyes intensify.

He still hasn't given up.

_I _can't give up.

And that's the cue for Carol and Lori to walk out of the church. Out the door, down the steps, onto the grass, and that makes me remember. _Everyone,_ well at least most of the people here believes in God, even after everything. Even after _Sophia_. But I don't buy this. God always backs out when we need him the most—but I can't be selfish and think about stuff like that right now. I've done just fine without God so far, and I can keep on going.

We all can keep moving.

* * *

A/N: ch 5 is finally done!

Daryl/oc father-daughter development!

Surprisingly, it took me a while to get back on track to writing this, haha. I guess being an otter for the past month really does take its toll on you. . .

Til next time~


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: chapter 6 is up!

**DustyClouds, **Thanks Dusty! You stay fabulous and godly too ^.^

**Shadow knight1121, **Oh yes the father/daughter cuteness *dies of cuteness overflow* xD

**Peanut Butter394, **Thanks ^^

**TheTalkingWalking, **Haha, nice to see that you're enjoying the story so far xD

Okay, so before I continue on with the story, I apologize profusely for the lateness. Honestly, like other people, I have school and other home problems to worry about up to the point where finding time to write and managing 3 stories is hard. . .so I shall give you awesome people who haven't given up hope on this story yet, a heads up. I will probably not update as often anymore, but I will, and I _really will_ try to make an effort to update as often as I can.

Okay, now you can flame me or kill me (hopefully not) with Rick's machete for my lateness. . .*runs away*

Once again, I apologize for the short chapter.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE WALKING DEAD

Enjoy~

* * *

Eden: Season Two

Ch. 6: Carl

.

.

.

We're all together now, one tightknit group standing under a giant tree with lots of branches for arms. Shane is playing leader now, directing us vulnerable sheep to wherever walkers aren't.

"Ya'll gotta follow the creek bed back," he says, "Okay, Daryl, you're in charge. Me and Rick, we're just gonna hang back. Search this area another hour or so just to be thorough."

Daryl shifts. I'm behind him, close enough to feel the leftover warmness radiating off of him. "You're splittin' us up? You sure?"

"We'll catch up to you." He says, and there seems to be some sort of voice in the back of his throat. The type of assuring voice that says 'everything is going to be alright.'

I try not to pick at my fingernails. _Bullshit._

"_Eden!"_

It's true. Nothing's alright anymore Lorel. Nothing—no one is safe anywhere. We already lost so many people, and there's only so long before we all go down. . .

_No. Eden. Stop. Sophia. Think about Sophia. Think about the camp, think about her doll, think about Carl—_

"I wanna stay too."

_Carl._

My knees seem to buckle when he says that, and I feel my fingernails digging into my palms. I'm so stupid. Because it's _Carl._ He's so kind—he has a well of the things that I don't have and he doesn't back down one inch against Shane and his dad; and I think that right now, he's beautiful. I think that he is one of the beautiful things that you get to see in this world and it seems like nothing else can stop me when my feet move across the ground and plant themselves right next to him.

"_Grow a voice, Eden. You gotta have spine now that this world is gone. And I don't mean just during hunting—you're plenty good at that. I'm talking about what's in there; your heart. Don't go letting it die out anytime soon just because the dead decided to come back."_

I never understood how Lorel was always so brave, and I still don't—but those words always sounded like they came from someone wise. Someone who lived too long and knows what this world is capable of, and I can only understand some of their meaning now.

Carl seems to cast an invisible eye over me because I see something in his eyes when he says words that make me feel not-so-insignificant.

"She's our friend."

And that's the cue for Lori and Rick and Shane to assess us—analyze us. . .and that's the time for me to force my voice to spill out the things I wanna say. "We. . .we wanna make sure she's safe." Because she's_ Carl's _friend—

"Because she's _our_ friend."

Lori wastes no time in walking behind us and giving our backs a light pat. The green light goes off in my head and I let out a little sigh—a good sigh when Lori faces us and tells us to be careful. She then turn to Carl and cups his face, "When did you grow up so fast?"

I don't what it is, but something pools into my stomach and gives me this weird feeling when I look at them. Rick, Carl, and Lori. One family. Because it's Rick and Lori. Strong, compassionate, kind Rick and Lori—and I can't help but be a little jealous because mom or dad wasn't around to do that kind of stuff to me. No, Lorel was there. She taught me everything I know from experience and none of the bullshit sugar-coating—

"_I'll let that one slide."_

Yeah.

Because when Cal was with mom and dad—_always_, I was with Lorel. I was with _my_ Rick and _my _Lori until the magic wore off and she'd send me home before curfew.

"Hey."

I swing my head to the left. It's Daryl. "Hey."

Something inside of me makes me wanna call him what daddy never was.

"You'd best be careful out there." He finally says. I get it. The proof is on his face and the tone he's using with me—almost like you, Lorel.

"Yeah, I got it." I say, and I feel his hand slowly find its way to my head. It's akward, and I know that he's trying to make the situation better, but the stinging feeling at the back of my eyes is back.

"_Hey, you don't cry anymore. . ."_

Yeah, Lorel. I'm trying to keep up. Because crying isn't for me anymore. Crying is for other kids; kids like Carl and Sophia because they have good families and stuffed animals and parents that actually care.

_Don't cry. _I keep telling myself that as Daryl's hand is still on top of my head, and when it leaves, my head is left unprotected; it's cold. And time doesn't give a damn because time keeps moving once Daryl gives Lori his gun and we move out.

I see Rick going up to Shane, and I strain my ears really hard to hear what he's saying.

"Can you give me a minute?" Rick says. Shane nods mechanically as my eyes follow Rick's body to the. . .church.

"Okay." I hear Shane whisper, and that's the cue for him to play leader and herd me and Carl to the church's steps. We wait in silence until Rick walks out. He doesn't look back.

"Get what you needed?" Shane asks.

"Guess I'll find out."

We move.

* * *

The grass brushes against my ankles and makes them itch but I don't complain. It's actually nice. No walkers, no danger. . .yet.

We pass by several trees, ignoring the way the cicadas are buzzing around us and the bugs are crawling the Earth. I focus. I sharpen my ears and get real quiet. My eyes search; they dart from branch to branch, looking for footprints—looking for Sophia. Looking for the little lost girl with a doll. And even thought this place is pretty, I feel restless. It's quiet, it's really quiet.

We stop, and I snap out of my reverie and turn into a little girl again. And what we all see makes me feel so many different things up to the point where I want to cry—because it's not natural. It's not supposed to be there; and yet it stands out so much because it doesn't deserve to be in an ugly world like this.

A deer.

It moves like royalty; without a single care about this world. And because it looks so innocent—because my breath catches itself in my throat when it looks around—because it looks _real,_ I feel like it is so, so _beautiful_—and when Shane pulls up his gun and points it at the deer, I take a step forward until Rick holds up his hand.

"Shane." He says, and then I get what this whole thing is about when I look at Carl. He's mystified.

Once the magic wears off slightly and I can breathe again, Carl is already taking two steps up towards the deer.

Step. Step, step.

"_Keep quiet, don't scare the deer away."_

I don't think Carl is scary enough to do that.

He's too kind.

Step, step, step.

The deer is looking at him now. Black, doey eyes on Carl's blue, and I can feel the quiet turn into something more, so I take that as a good sign as I slip away and fall into a trance. Carl, then the deer. Carl, then the deer.

_The deer's not going anywhere._

It locks eyes with Carl, moving its ears, and I think Carl is smiling—I think so, but his back is turned so I can't say for sure.

Step, step, step.

He's so close. So close to touching the deer.

_Just one more step._

I can't move my eyes away anymore. Neither can Rick or Shane because I don't see them looking anywhere else other than Carl. The shadow, the kind shadow.

_A good shadow._

My eyes don't go anywhere, even when it all collapses and the world isn't pretty anymore and the dominos crash and Carl falls to the floor, I still don't look away. The deer's eyes aren't doe-like anymore and I can't even hear Rick's screams over the screams in my own head as he and Shane run up while I'm just _stuck._

"_No!"_

_No._

I can't breathe. Why can't I breathe again? Carl? What about Carl?

_No. No. No. No. No. No._

_Look at the deer, Eden. Focus. Stop. Breathe in. One, Two, Three. Good. Breathe out. No, not like that. . .Don't cry. Don't cry. Look at the deer. Keep your eyes on the deer and Carl's beautiful blue eyes—_

_Don't look anywhere else._

_Don't break._

_Don't cry._

_Don't cry._

_Don't cry_

_Don't cry._

It's not quiet anymore.

* * *

A/N: Okay, Carl's down now. Seriousness is starting next chapter, and I hope you guys haven't given up on me yet!

I hope I didn't lose my idea with this story. Being away from writing this story for quite a while makes me wonder whether or not my writing has changed. Well, hopefully it's not bad enough for you guys to flay me alive. . .

But I really do apologize if this chapter doesn't live up to anyone's standards. . .so yea

Til next time~


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